


Fatigue

by carolej126



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: Gen, Sentinel/Guide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 02:11:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18650800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolej126/pseuds/carolej126
Summary: Written in 2000.Jim doesn't listen to his partner.





	Fatigue

Blair's eyes left the open textbook in his lap and shifted toward his partner as Jim leaned his head against the back of the seat. He removed his glasses and tucked his yellow highlighter inside the book, then reached across the seat to touch Jim's shoulder. "Jim? You okay?" 

"I'm fine," he answered, shrugging off Blair's hand. 

Blair took a deep breath. "You don't look fine, you look tired." 

"Sandburg, we've already had this discussion. I'm fine," Jim repeated in clipped words. 

"You've been saying that you're fine for two days, but you're not!" Blair insisted. "Three zone outs in two days is not fine, Jim! And look at yourself, you can barely stay awake, your eyes are red, your hands are shaking..." 

"Back off, Sandburg." 

"I'm just trying to help." 

"I don't need help," Jim answered coldly. "What I need is to catch this guy before he burns down another building." 

"Jim, Simon would..." 

"I told Simon the same thing I'm telling you. I'm fine. Now, back off," the detective snarled, ignoring the way his partner flinched at his words. 

Blair clamped his mouth closed, then sat back in his seat. He pulled his jacket tighter around himself, not sure how much of the cold he was feeling could be blamed on the weather. He pretended to return to studying his book, but spent the next few minutes darting covert glances at the tense man beside him. 

"There he is," Jim said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. 

Blair straightened in his seat and peered out the front window. Pederson was approaching the warehouse on the east side, large duffel bag slung over his shoulder. 

"Call it in," Jim directed tersely. 

Blair reached for the cell phone between them on the seat. As he dialed and relayed the information, Jim continued to watch Pederson. 

"Stay here," Jim said, opening his door. 

"No way," Blair refused. 

"I said stay here." 

"And I said no. I'm going with you," Blair insisted, not backing down even in the face of Jim's glare. "You could have another zone-out, and without me there..." 

"Sandburg, if you won't stay here, can you at least stay behind me?" Jim's sarcastic tone increased Blair's worry twofold. 

"Yeah," Blair answered softly, not wanting to provoke his partner any further. He opened his door and followed closely behind as Jim headed for the entrance to the warehouse. 

As Jim took a deep breath and tipped his head in a familiar listening stance, Blair placed his hand on Jim's back. 

"Can you hear him?" Blair whispered. 

Jim nodded as he picked up the sound of their suspect's rapid heartbeat and harsh breathing. "Wait here," he said, motioning to the side of the doorway. "If anything goes wrong, get back to the truck. Back-up should be here in a few minutes." 

Blair hesitated, then nodded his agreement. "Be careful." 

Jim quietly made his way into the warehouse, his Sentinel senses on full alert. He could hear Pederson still making his way across the warehouse floor. Focusing his eyes on the distant man, he zeroed in on the suspect just as Pederson turned to face him. The light streaming in from the window reflected off Pederson's belt buckle, and Jim was lost in a shimmering display of color. 

"Jim?" Blair whispered as he saw his partner come to a sudden halt. "Jim!" 

There was no response. 

"Jim? Are you okay?" Blair asked softly, knowing that Sentinel ears should be able to hear him. "Come on, Jim, answer me." 

There was still no response. 

Eyes and ears were alert for any sign of Pederson as Blair took a tentative step toward the motionless man. "Jim?" he repeated in a louder voice. "Oh, man, please tell me that you didn't zone again." 

As he took a second step forward, his attention was caught by a loud high-pitched metallic squeal. The sound of retreating footsteps was heard as he saw the shelf beside Jim begin to slowly tip toward the unsuspecting man. 

"Jim!" Blair shouted, racing across the floor to knock the bigger man out of the way of the tumbling metal shelf. Jim was pushed several feet away from the path of the shelf, but as Blair landed awkwardly on his stomach, the edge of the shelf slammed into his leg. 

Fighting the encroaching darkness, and sobbing from the pain, Blair reached for Jim's hand. It was just out of his reach. 

* * *

"Jim? Can you hear me? Jim?" Simon called again, as he saw the detective slowly blink his eyes. 

"Simon?" Jim asked, surprised to find himself stretched out on the warehouse floor. "What happened?" 

"That's what I'd like to know," Simon admitted as he helped Jim sit up. 

Jim rubbed his eyes. "Last thing I remember is entering the warehouse. Did we get Pederson?" 

Simon shook his head. "No, he got away." 

"Damn." Jim's eyes searched the warehouse for a moment, then he turned back to look at Simon. "Where's Sandburg? Don't tell me he's still in the truck." 

"He wasn't in the truck, he was in here with you." 

Jim glanced around the warehouse again. "Then where...?" 

"He's on his way to Cascade General." 

"What?" Jim breathed out in dismay. "Why? What happened?" 

"Jim," Simon said gently. "You zoned again." 

Jim shook his head in disbelief. "No." 

"You were zoned," Simon repeated. "When I came in, you were lying on the floor and Sandburg was pinned under that pile of shelving. I knew the paramedics would ask too many questions if they saw you, so I made sure that it was safe to move him, then carried him outside when the ambulance arrived." 

"Oh, god, Simon. Is he okay?" 

"He's got a pretty bad gash in his leg, and he was still unconscious when they left for the hospital, but I think he will be." 

Jim bowed his head, a stricken look on his face. "This is all my fault." 

"We're not gonna worry about that right now," Simon said firmly. "Let's go check on that partner of yours." 

* * *

"Doctor, how is he?" Simon asked, rising to his feet as the white-jacketed woman entered the waiting room. 

"Mr. Sandburg sustained a deep gash to his left leg which required 30 stitches. Fortunately the bone was not broken." 

"But he's going to be okay, right," Simon took the lead when Jim was uncharacteristically silent. 

"Yes, I believe that he will be just fine." 

"Are you going to admit him?" 

"No, I don't see any reason to admit him at this time. We'll keep him here for a few more hours for routine observation, then he'll be released." 

"I need to see him," Jim said, his words seemingly directed toward the floor he was staring at. 

"Yes, of course. He's still asleep, but you're welcome to wait in his room." 

Simon nodded, and turned to assist an unsteady Jim to his feet. 

"I assume that there will be someone available to take care of him for a few days. His leg is going to be very painful for a while, and he'll need to keep his weight off of it as much as possible for the next several days." 

"I'll take care of him," Jim promised softly. "It's the least I can do." 

* * *

"This is all my fault." Jim's eyes swept across the hospital bed, then focused on Simon. "My fault," he repeated, as he rubbed a shaking hand over his face. "He tried to tell me, but I didn't listen." 

"Jim, it's no wonder that you've been so tired," Simon said softly in deference to the sleeping man. "You just closed a very long, very high-profile murder case, then, without a break you took on this arson case. You've been on stake-out three days in a row. Both of us thought you could handle it..." 

"No, Simon," Jim interrupted. "I knew I was too tired to handle it. I was just too stubborn to admit it. I should have let someone else take the case, or at least taken a few days off, but my pride got in the way." 

"Jim," Simon began. 

"My pride got in the way," Jim repeated with emphasis. "And my best friend paid the price. My god, he could have been killed." 

"But I wasn't," came Blair's soft voice. 

Jim whirled around to face the bed. "Chief?" 

Blair gave him a small smile. "Hey." 

"I am so sorry, Blair. I should have listened to you," Jim admitted, his hand reaching out to rest on Blair's shoulder. 

"Yeah, you should have," Blair chuckled softly. "Maybe next time you will." 

Jim tried to meet Blair's eyes, but his gaze dropped to the floor. "I am really, really sorry." 

"Jim, I forgive you." 

Jim slowly raised his eyes to look at his guide. "How can you? I mean, why?" 

"That's what friends do," Blair answered simply. 

Tears came unbidden to Jim's eyes as he brushed the soft curls from Blair's face with a gentle hand, then lowered his hand to cup his partner's face for a second. After shaking his head slowly in wondrous appreciation for a friendship that he didn't deserve, he finally nodded. "Thanks, Chief." 

* * *

"Bed," Jim directed. 

"I'd rather rest out here," Blair said, nodding at the living room. 

"You sure?" 

"Yeah," Blair said with certainty, as he slowly limped toward the love seat. Jim's arm was wrapped tightly around his waist, providing support and taking most of his weight. 

"Easy now," Jim said, as Blair carefully stretched out on the smaller of the two couches. "I'll get your blanket and pillow." 

Blair looked up with a smile of gratitude as Jim returned from Blair's small bedroom. The older man gently covered him with the blanket and then tucked the pillow behind his head. 

His mission accomplished, Jim hovered behind the couch. "Chief, would you like something to drink, maybe water, or tea? I could make some tea..." 

"Jim, please sit down. You need to rest as much as I do." 

Jim smiled faintly but obediently sat down on the large couch with a sigh. He leaned his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes. 

Blair waited patiently. A few minutes later he was rewarded by the sound of Jim's deep, even breathing. He slowly swung his legs to the floor, and balancing on one foot, reached out to lift the afghan from the back of the couch and drape it over his exhausted partner. With a smile on his face he snuggled back under his blanket and closed his eyes. 


End file.
